


(never) let me go

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, No Man's Land, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, takes place from around 5x05 to 5x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: Ed and Oswald are desperately in love, but Oswald, not wanting to risk being hurt again, tries to move on. However, they both come to learn that even if they can live without each other, they don't want to.
Relationships: (very briefly) - Relationship, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	(never) let me go

In the end it was the easiest thing in the world, falling in love with Oswald Cobblepot. And maybe Ed loved him all along, and it’s only taken him several years to finally figure it out.

There’s never been anyone in Ed’s life quite like him. No one has made him laugh like this, cry like this, _hate_ like this, absolutely adore like this. Despite their rocky past and shaky present, Ed can’t live a second more without him by his side- not as an ally, but as his friend, his partner, his one true love.

He throws together a makeshift plan, but he’s far too anxious, too excited, to really give it too much careful thought. Of course, it was only a week ago that Ed burst into city hall and nearly put a bullet through Oswald’s heart (again), but he’s rather certain of himself this time. He’s pictured this moment over and over in his mind and he just keeps landing on the same happy conclusion: Oswald in his arms, overjoyed, unable to contain himself. He is Oswald’s one true love, after all (Oswald’s words). 

But Ed should realize that love is never easy. Especially not when it comes to Oswald.

Ed figures he’ll surprise him. He slips through the vast rooms of city hall, now Oswald’s home in the burning wasteland of Gotham. It’s over the top and impressive and entirely Oswald. Ed certainly doesn’t fit in with the lavish marble and gold sculptures, his long, unkempt hair and rumpled green suit standing out in stark contrast. 

He finds him out on the balcony, under the black sky, with stars sparkling in his eyes and a cigarette burning at his lips. Oswald’s wearing that silver double-breasted suit Ed likes. It gleams beautifully in the moonlight and makes him appear more ethereal than ever.

“Riddler,” he greets him with a sigh, not even turning to meet his companion’s eyes. Not that he really needs to. No one else would slip silently into his home at this hour of night.

Ed suppresses a shiver. “Mr. Penguin.” He steps up beside him and leans on the railing.

With a casual flick of his wrist Oswald offers his cigarette to Ed, who takes it from between his fingers and places it between his lips. Ed doesn’t smoke but the taste of Oswald is irresistible to him, sends his heart into a frenzy.

For several silent moments they linger, side by side, passing the cigarette back and forth between them. Ed thinks briefly about kissing him. Get it over and done with. Finally feel the warm pressure and velvet-soft touch of Oswald’s heavenly mouth on his. They’ve shared the damn cigarette enough times that Ed feels, at this point, sharing a kiss is the next logical step.

He licks his lips without thinking. Takes another drag.

Oh, Ed is a _fool._

“I have a proposal for you,” he says, his eyes scanning the broad, glittering city stretched before them. He holds the cigarette before Oswald’s lips, and Oswald, eyeing him carefully under devastatingly long, dark lashes, takes it gently between his fingers.

“I’m listening,” Oswald responds coolly as he returns his gaze to the sparkling horizon.

Ed pulls the little box from his pocket, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Opens it. Places it on the balcony rail beside Oswald so he can see.

And Oswald only scoffs as his eyes catch on the dazzling diamond. He takes one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it over the edge, leaving it to fizzle out as it falls. “Where did you steal that from?” he snorts, more of a statement than a question. He tosses Ed one last uneasy, almost _sad,_ glance before throwing the doors open and stalking back inside.

Ed remains stone-still, his heart sinking to the floor, the blood spilling from his face. _Of course_ he stole the ring. He hasn’t a single penny to his name and he figured Oswald would appreciate the effort put forth to procure such an exquisite item. 

He also figured Oswald would be over the moon.

Ed grits his teeth. Slams the box back shut and stuffs it into his pocket. On slow, stiff legs he follows after Oswald. Finds him slumped over his desk, a glass of whiskey just within reach.

“Why not?” Ed asks sharply to Oswald’s back. The question echoes across the cold marble room.

Oswald sighs shakily. “Why what?” he answers, exasperated, as he throws back his drink.

“You’re really not even going to _consider_ it?” Ed retorts, the words coming out a bit more stinging than he’d expected. He feels like a child.

As Oswald turns, his pale eyes ignite, flashing with anger. “A week ago you marched in here, waving a gun in my face and blaming me for everything that’s gone wrong in your life!” he screams, throwing his arms out. “And now you’re- you’re _proposing_ to me?!” He laughs incredulously, bitterly. 

Ed can swear he sees a tear slide down his burning cheeks. His heart constricts but he remains rooted to the spot, fists clenched and jaw tight.

Oswald whips back around, pours another glass of whiskey, and downs it in one swig. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Ed, if I’m a bit… startled by all of this,” he finally adds in a painfully strained voice. Ed would guess he’s seconds away from breaking apart.

“I- Oswald, it’s _okay._ I figured you would be surprised.”

Oswald nods, his head still hung as he braces himself on the desk. “You were right to figure that,” he mutters.

“I know it’s probably a difficult decision,” Ed begins, wringing his hands as he takes careful steps forward, “but Oswald I- I hope you’ll say yes. I think we’ve both wanted this for a long time.” He sucks in a deep breath, chest filling with a new confidence gained from having spoken his mind. It’s finally all out there; Oswald knows how he feels about him. His fingers close around the ring box in his pocket as he awaits the answer.

“No.”

“ _What?_ ”

“That’s my answer. No,” Oswald repeats dully.

“But you love me-”

Oswald spins around, advancing on him. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses, his tone lethal but wavering just slightly. “ _Don’t_ you _dare_ after all this time-”

“ _After all this time,_ I finally understand my feelings for you-”

“This is absurd!”

“Goddammit, Oswald!” Ed finds himself shouting. Oswald offsets his jaw. “I thought we were going to move past everything! All the backstabbing, all the betrayal,” Ed huffs, chest heaving. “And here I thought we were doing better.” _What the hell does Oswald want?!_

But Oswald only stares at him, eyes shining, mouth pressed in a line.

“Guess I’m the only one who actually wants to keep this relationship afloat,” Ed finishes, voice brittle. He curses himself when he feels the first tears slipping from his eyes. 

Oswald slams his glass on the desk so hard it cracks. “Oh really? Because _I_ was under the same impression as you when I saved you from Sofia’s men! I thought- _foolishly_ it seems- that after that day on the docks our relationship was at least somewhat improved!”

Ed senses where this is going. His stomach drops.

“But then, you played that little trick on me!” Oswald jabs his finger at Ed and bares his teeth. “Remember at the bank? When you locked me in the vault and then ran off with the new love of your life?”

The boiling anger cools a little. Oswald has a point.

“Oswald, I’m s-”

“You know that was the last time I saw you before-” Oswald chokes down the words, mouth twisting and brow furrowing as he fixes a hard gaze on the floor.

Right. Ed’s death.

Those last few weeks leading up to the event were shaky and violent and full of things Ed regrets. The worst part is, Oswald had warned him. But he didn’t listen, and Oswald was left heartbroken again as their alliance crumbled and as Ed bled to death in the Narrows.

Yet Oswald _saved_ them. Both Ed and Lee, despite the fact that Lee was the one standing between himself and the man he would call his one true love.  
 _Love is sacrifice. It’s being able to put someone else’s needs before your own._

"I forced myself to let go of you, Ed,” Oswald finally says quietly, like even he doesn’t want to hear these words. “Now you need to do the same. Let me go."

“I don’t want to,” Ed gasps desperately, his voice raw, “I _can’t._ ” He’s finally been ripped open, his ribcage cracked in two, baring his beating, bleeding heart for Oswald to see. “Oswald, you _have_ to understand-”

His eyes catch movement at the top of the stairs.

A tall, handsome man steps onto the landing, apparently seeking Penguin out. Only a towel hangs loosely around his hips and his hair is still dripping from the shower.

Yes, Ed had heard the rumors around the city. And maybe he willfully ignored the idea of Oswald spending too much time with gorgeous, picture-perfect men. But now Ed can actually feel how his heart crumbles to dust.

He blinks the tears from his eyes. His chin trembles. He never thought this would actually happen: that he’d one day be replaced. Of course he’d considered it, briefly, before shoving the idea back down. He looks at Oswald to see if this is real. 

And Oswald’s softened, terribly sad eyes reveal it all. “Ed, you know it doesn’t- it doesn’t mean anything,” he says desperately. Trying to smooth it over. He doesn’t want to be with Ed but he doesn’t want Ed to be hurt. What Oswald doesn’t seem to be acknowledging is that he _is_ hurting Ed, he’s hurting Ed so badly that it crushes his chest and suffocates him.

After everything, Ed really has no right to be affected this much. He knows that. And he knows how selfish it is. Oswald isn’t _his_ and he never will be. But seeing him find someone new is a knife straight to the heart.

 _I will stare you in the eye as I stab you in the heart._ Motionless, Oswald watches him with big, shining eyes.

So Ed does the only thing he can do now. As tears begin dropping from his lower lashes, he turns sharply and makes for the doorway as quickly as he can without actually sprinting.

The last thing he hears is Oswald shrieking for his barely-dressed companion to _get out._ Glass shatters and the doors slam shut.

\--------------------------

He lingers around city hall for a few days. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s like he’s spinning in circles, going from accepting Oswald’s wishes and deciding to leave him in the past to realizing that just breaking things off would probably break _him._ So Ed flips flops, pacing on the sidewalks outside as he runs it over in his mind.

He stops dead when he recognizes a man approaching city hall- the same idiot Oswald must be sleeping with. Ducking behind a trash can, Ed eyes him as he bounds up the marble steps and gives a quick glance around him before disappearing inside. A bold move, going in through the front doors, when the city is a warzone, when the streets are crawling with the scum of the earth and anyone could be watching at any time. Ed scowls from behind the trash can, his breathing harsh and quick. Of course he’s jealous, why bother denying it at this point? The thought of Oswald choosing this absolute buffoon over his supposed “one true love” is baffling. Perhaps Ed should have lunged out and grabbed the man, wrapped a tight arm around his neck and dragged him away to finish him off. He doubts Oswald would have been pleased with that, regardless of whether he wants the man or not.

Ed releases his held breath when the man returns not two minutes later, wearing an expression that borders on bitterness. Either he made quick work of having his way with Oswald, or Oswald kicked him out again. Obviously it’s not actual love, what Oswald has with this idiotic _boy toy,_ but still Ed hopes it’s the latter, that Oswald is finally done with the moron. He forces down images of the two of them together, the man pressing Oswald up against the wall, Oswald’s leg riding high up his side… 

Ed shakes the thought off and swallows down his dismay. Maybe, after some time, Oswald will come to miss Ed. Maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t want to let him go, not really. He’s always wanted what he can’t have.

As the sun begins to set, casting gold-orange light across the festering city, Ed finally goes home to his library once again, the outline of city hall shrinking on the horizon. It might be a while before he sees the home of Oswald Cobblepot again.

\--------------------------

It’s been a long while since Oswald actually took time for himself, more than just a half hour to prevent himself from boiling over. Between opening his newest lounge and struggling to survive in a literal warzone, Oswald has a lot on his hands and on his mind.

He paces the wide, empty halls, each footstep on the marble floors echoing all around the room. He finally has a bit of free time and he has no idea what to do with all this peace. It all feels like too much.

Oswald sighs and settles on the sofa, letting his eyes fall closed as he soaks in the silence. Ever since he’d sent his so-called lover away for a second time, he’s actually found himself enjoying the days a little more. In all honesty, that man was incredibly dull and a bit tiring. Perhaps Oswald meant for him to replace Ed, he isn’t really sure; either way he doesn’t compare by a long shot.

He opens his eyes and considers the decanter on the end table. He really could use a drink to drown all of his cares. Afterall, he broke Ed’s heart, yet again.

But it seems that Ed can hardly stay away.

Oswald’s just begun to reach for the decanter when he’s startled by his presence.

“You drink too much,” comes that familiar, gravelly voice from behind him. 

After weeks and weeks, it’s such a wonderful sound. Oswald chokes down a stuttering sigh of relief and watches as Ed pours two glasses and takes a seat beside him. His eyes are tired and red-rimmed, and his hair lays long and shaggy against his forehead, and it makes Oswald’s heart squeeze.

They toast and drink silently. Ed keeps his head bowed. His fingers tap nervously on the glass.

“Edward, I suppose I should apologize,” Oswald begins, sighing. “For the last time we met.”

Ed’s eyes widen just slightly but he remains silent.

Oswald continues, lacing and unlacing his fingers anxiously as he shifts his gaze from the floor to Ed and back again. “We were friends once. I can’t forget that.”

“So… would you… rethink my offer?” Ed asks quietly, delicately, like he’s afraid of the answer. He watches Oswald with hopeful doe eyes, and Oswald can already see Ed’s hand sneaking towards his rumpled suit pocket, apparently where he’s keeping his gift.

Oswald’s face softens. “Ed, don’t-”

He hates how Ed instantly turns to stone, hates how his warm brown eyes cool and the muscles in his jaw tense. But he knows if he doesn’t put his foot down about this, they’ll just keep going in circles, and Ed will never understand that this _just can’t work._ If they can’t even hold a stable alliance, a _relationship_ will never survive.

“Oswald, just listen,” he interrupts stiffly. “I lo-”

The words die on his tongue, and the flickering bright hope of his eyes fades. Oswald bites his cheek and shifts his gaze away from him.

“I- Oswald, I feel… the same way about you. That you feel about me,” Ed finally manages, stumbling over the words as if it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever had to spit out.

Oswald shakes his head slightly, still focusing his eyes anywhere but on Ed. “I don’t think you do.”

Ed splutters, blinking, hands fidgeting. “I- I know that I do-”

Oswald’s had enough, his tone turning bitter again. “You can’t even say the words to me,” he hisses, and he shifts in his seat, trying to distance himself. “And you know what, Ed? You’re lonely. That’s _all_ this is.”

Ed pulls back, momentarily stunned.

“You’re lonely,” Oswald repeats. “You don’t have Kringle, or Isabelle, and now you don’t have Lee, so you’re looking for someone to fill that gaping hole in your chest!” he concludes, forcefully jabbing a finger at Ed.

He’s still at a loss for words, his eyes wide, and when Oswald finally rises, Ed remains seated, dumbfounded. 

Oswald drops his glass on the side table and meets Ed’s gaze. Sorrow and frustration, anger and desperation. He can see it all in Ed’s glassy eyes. “Well,” he begins, in a professional tone, “I’m glad I could be your last resort, Edward. Thank you for visiting.”

Before Ed has the chance to fumble a reply and try to piece things together yet again, Oswald staggers from the room and leaves him behind.

\--------------------------

Alone on the streets again. Ed keeps his head down as he makes his way back to his little library. His throat is sore. His heart drags along the concrete sidewalk behind him. He wonders briefly if he should have apologized too.

But then he tastes bitterness. Oswald wasn’t even _willing_ to hear his confession of love. Ed scowls and chews on his lip. Why should it matter whether he says the actual words or not? Oswald’s been waiting for Ed to return his feelings for what must be years now, but the instant Ed suggests romance he closes up again!

Ed notices he’s practically been stomping the pavement with each short stride, so he takes a moment to breathe, and forces himself to take lighter, looser steps. He sighs deeply. He just needs time. _Oswald_ needs time. He’s sure he’ll come around eventually; Oswald’s always let his emotions drive him and Ed knows that deep feelings like Oswald’s can’t just disappear.

But in the meantime, it can’t hurt to be prepared. He runs over inventories in his mind, trying to determine what they’ll need to throw a grand celebration. He’s sure Oswald will want only the most lavish decor, a sumptuous banquet, all the opulent comforts. And of course lilies, lilies placed everywhere so that it might feel like a dream. Oswald would gasp in delight to see so many laid out just for him. Ed smiles at the thought of it, his anger already melting away.

They’ll also need to pick an appropriate season, and one that the venue will accommodate well. Summer will be much too warm for Oswald’s liking. Perhaps spring? Spring is so common for weddings, perhaps _too_ common and predictable for Ed’s taste, but the air will be fresh and balmy and all the flowers will be in bloom. But Ed can only imagine how enchanting a winter wedding could be. Oswald would be simply starstruck, dancing and drinking and _beaming_ under glittering chandeliers and magnificent ice crystals. But perhaps he would want to celebrate outside, right in the snow, under a soft, glowing sky. For a moment Ed is overwhelmed with the image: Oswald dressed all in white velvet, clutching a bouquet of lilies, the lights sparkling in his eyes as he gazes up at him. Yes, Ed thinks winter would be best. He chuckles down at his shoes as he continues along the sidewalk.

But then, shouting and obnoxious laughter catches his attention, and he whips his head up, pace slowing. Just ahead of him, a rowdy group of men gallivant in his direction, tackling each other playfully as they go.

Ed instantly recognizes their black and red leather jackets, their buckled boots and spiky hair. Cherry’s guys. He’s dealt with them before when he lived in the Narrows, but he’s never been so unlucky as to be at the blunt end of their baseball bats. After a moment too long of hesitation, he dives into the alley. But he’s already caught their eyes, and they pick up their speed, trudging into the little side street after him.

“Oh dear,” he mutters under his breath, raising his hands placatingly and backing away. Ed may be tall and broad-shouldered but next to these men he’s a pipsqueak. An easy target.

One nudges the others. “Look at this weasel,” he snorts. He twirls a small blade between his gloved fingers.

Ed’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to think of something to say that will hold them off.

“He doesn’t look like he’s got anything valuable on him,” another says, nose wrinkled as he eyes Ed up and down. Then he addresses Ed directly, gesturing at him with his bat. “I’ll bet you don’t have a buck to your name, huh?”

Ed leaps at the opportunity, eyes widening. “N- no! I don’t. Not a single penny. Just struggling like everyone else.” He laughs nervously.

A third henchman steps forward, clenching and unclenching his fist. Brass knuckles shine across his hand. “We have orders, guys,” he reasons, sounding a bit exasperated. “Check everywhere,” he levels his gaze at Ed, steely and determined, “and check everyone.”

Ed barely has time to think before he’s being struck hard across the cheek, and it sends him whirling. His hand flies up reflexively to his stinging lip and it comes away bloody.

Then the one with the bat swings hard, right at his back. It’s like all the air is sucked from his lungs, like his ribcage has been crushed. They laugh gruffly as he collapses. He can’t move, can’t breathe.

A hard kick to the face. Ed spits up blood and slumps onto the cold concrete. His vision fades to black.

\--------------------------

Oswald doesn’t miss him, no. He _longs_ for him, though he absolutely refuses to acknowledge it. With Edward appearing over and over, chasing after him it seems, it’s been awfully difficult to forget about him.

Sighing deeply, Oswald wraps his robe snugly around him and steps out onto the balcony. The faded city comes into view, a misty landscape spread underneath a dark, cloudy sky. Its lights don’t sparkle so brightly under this nighttime haze. Not even a single star hangs above. An icy wind whips at Oswald’s clothes, chilling him to the bone, but he remains, his hands clutching the cold railing for balance.

So different a night it is from the first that Ed appeared by his side. For the first time since, Oswald finds himself holding his breath, waiting for Ed to return with his stupid engagement ring and that big, ridiculous smile plastered on his face. Perhaps Oswald would have a different answer for him.

But he can’t let himself believe all of this. How many times has Ed claimed that he’s fallen in love, and how many times has it lasted? And now, Ed can’t even spit out those three words, like the thought of actually having to say them to Oswald is torture itself.

It’s so terribly cold that Oswald’s fingers have become numb and whitened, so he releases his firm grip on the railing. With gritted teeth, he folds his arms over himself and staggers back inside, back into the warm comfort of his lonely, spacious home. It’s not at all surprising when he all but falls onto the ivory sofa and curls up, his head aching and tears already trickling down his reddened cheeks. He shivers and wraps his robe even tighter around himself and buries his face into the cushions. Had he been at home, at his mansion with his Chief of Staff, Ed would have tucked a blanket around him and brewed some tea.

But this is a different home, and they’re different men.

Oswald can’t help but weep.

\--------------------------

When Ed wakes, he’s a bit surprised to find that he’s been left in that same alleyway, and that he hasn’t been dragged off to an abandoned warehouse or to the rusting boatyard. A dull throb aches through his skull, gradually strengthening as he sits up until it feels as though his head has been split open. Gasping in pain, Ed presses the heel of his hand to his temple. He fumbles for his glasses on the pavement, and groans when he realizes one of the lenses has been cracked. There’s not much to be done about that. Optometrists have long since disappeared and he’s not sure where he could find a replacement lens (or a new pair of glasses, if he’s that desperate). He shoves them up his nose.

And then he stops cold.

Between the stabbing pain in his head, the aching of his bruised body, and now the knowledge that his only pair of glasses are broken, Ed nearly forgot the precious cargo he’d been carrying around for weeks. He pats his pockets. Icy blood rushes in his ears.

“No, no-”

Ed staggers to his feet, frantically searching himself, digging through every pocket on him.

“NO!” he shrieks. The engagement ring. _It’s gone._ The one thing that remained which still tied him to Oswald, and it’s lost to him.

Ed strikes the brick wall of the alley with his fists, crying out as the pain spasms through his hands. It’ll surely leave bruises. And he leans forward, touching his forehead to the wall, his only support as he’s overcome with sobs that make his legs buckle. Alone and secluded in this dark little world, Ed weeps openly, chest shuddering and heaving as he gasps for air.

He thinks of Oswald. Of his smile, of the days they spent together, the days that were quite possibly the happiest of Ed’s life. He wishes so desperately that Oswald was here now, to hold him, to pet his hair and tell him that everything’s okay.

But Ed stops himself suddenly, sucking in a shaky breath to calm his nerves. Will he really let Cherry’s thugs take something that belongs to him- that _should_ belong to Oswald? Will he let them keep it, along with their pointless little lives, laughing away while Ed cries and screams his lungs out in the alley? Ed wouldn’t dream of it. Afterall, he’s better than them, smarter and sharper too. He’s the goddamn _Riddler._

Ed rubs vigorously at his swollen eyes and straightens his glasses. Puffs out his chest and tightens his jaw. Ed’s going to get Oswald’s ring back, even if he has to tear the entire Narrows apart, brick by crumbling brick.

\--------------------------

It’s no trouble slipping through the Narrows unbothered, as most of its hermits and outcasts scurry to the safety of the shadows when they hear Ed’s shoes crunching over gravel and glass. No man’s land has not been kind to those remaining here, and every day is a fight for survival. No one is looking for trouble.

He makes his way through the wide empty room of his former employment, past its steel beams and battered fighting ring. The echoes of cheers and chants of _Grundy, Grundy_ seem to float through the air. Ed must admit he enjoyed himself during those days, performing for crowds and opening for his star fighter. But life is so different now, quiet and lonely. Sometimes he misses the business, the excitement, the violence.

Realizing he’s paused to reminisce too long, he shakes his head and continues on.

Cherry’s office is a small, cluttered room just to the side of the fighting ring. Ed supposes she gets a good view of the match through the little glass window, her feet propped up on the desk as she flips through stacks of dollar bills. He kneels carefully before the door and picks the lock in no time, keeping an eye out for unwanted visitors the whole time.

Ed clicks on his flashlight, illuminating the darkened room with a dull, yellow glow. It’s an even worse mess than he remembers, with mountains of paper files and empty or shattered liquor bottles scattered everywhere. He takes careful steps as he approaches Cherry’s littered desk, sweeping the flashlight beam back and forth across the floor, up and down the faded walls.

He rummages through crumpled papers on the shelves and pushes old binders aside. It sends dust swirling into the air and Ed suppresses the urge to cough. Next, he crouches before the row of short cabinets, throws open every door, and is once again met with nothing of interest.

Finally he turns to desk with a huff, burning anxiety building as he struggles to suppress his panic. The thought of never finding the ring again makes his cheeks hot and his heart hammer. He shakily pulls open each drawer, breath catching each time, disappointment sinking in each time he finds nothing. Empty bottles, stacks of files, even more bottles.

He yanks open the last drawer and gasps. There’s the little velvet box, half-buried in a pile of other stolen goods, jewels, loose bolts and rusty screws. Without a second more of hesitation, he snatches it up and reverently opens the box, an overwhelming sense of relief washing over him as he finds that the ring hasn’t been harmed. He grins triumphantly.

The floorboards creak.

Ed spins around and then he’s staring right down the silver barrel of a gun. He squawks even as she lowers her weapon from between his eyes.

“Nygma. Didn’t expect to see you back here, especially since the Doc split,” Cherry says, slipping her gun back into its holster. “What do you want?” She tugs the lamp cord and the room instantly brightens.

“Your buffoons stole something of mine and I want it back,” he growls, setting his jaw firmly. He defiantly stuffs the ring box into his pocket. There’s no point in hiding his intention to reclaim his- Oswald’s- diamond, even if it costs his life.

Cherry seems unaffected as she rounds her desk and pours a glass of whiskey. “How about I offer you a job instead?”

Ed blinks. “What?”

“You want to make a little money? More than what that ring will get you?” Cherry throws back her drink and turns to face Ed once more, leaning on the counter with a casual air. She doesn’t seem terribly bothered that Ed just tried to steal from her (or is it really stealing if it was Ed’s in the first place?). “You know,” she begins, crossing her arms and eyeing him up and down, “I could use a guy like you.”

Ed furrows his brow. What could she possibly want from _him?_

“Somebody harmless and weak looking-”

Ed grits his teeth but Cherry doesn’t seem to care that she’s just insulted him.

“-like you’d make a great scout. Someone who can keep an eye on some people for me, maybe procure some unique items,” she arches a red-painted eyebrow, “no one would suspect you.”

“Are you _out_ of your mind?” Ed says flatly.

She puts up her hands placatingly. “Hey, you brought in good business when you were doing those little shows of yours. And even better when you teamed up with the Doc. She’s a smart one. Too bad we can’t get you two together again, start another game show or something.”

Feeling foolish, Ed swallows roughly. He’d rather avoid discussing Lee. In retrospect, the whole situation was a trainwreck, ending with broken hearts and bloody messes. _Messes Oswald had warned him about, messes Oswald was left trying to clean up._

“You know what I really need?” Cherry continues, snapping her fingers as this new important thought arises.

“I assume you’ll tell me?” Ed responds, bored.

She grins, teeth bared. “It’s something you’ll enjoy. We’ve gotten intel that Penguin’s hoarding _a lot_ of valuable stuff in city hall, so we’re planning a raid of his vaults. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch him at home, finish him off once and for all.”

Ed nearly chokes. Hopefully she doesn’t see him blanch under this dim lighting.

“I figured this would be a good fit for you, since you hate him so much.”

“Y- yes.” _He needs to warn Oswald._

“Those impersonations you did were great, by the way. Brought in a lot of cash.”

“Thanks,” he says slowly, distractedly.

“Can I count you in?”

“Uh- yes. Definitely.” He eyes the doorway. “Um, I- Let me go, uh, gather my resources. I’ll get back to you,” he finishes with a tight grin. He shuffles awkwardly past her, still offering nervous smiles that probably border on suspicious. 

“Well, alright.” Cherry’s arms are crossed, the expression on her face pleased, but Ed can tell his behavior has her a bit perplexed. “When you’re ready, we’ll meet back here. But don’t take too long. This thing goes down in three days.”

“Yep. Sure,” he responds curtly, slipping out the door before she can respond again.

Perhaps he should lie low for a bit. Make sure no one is tailing him before he goes directly to Oswald to share this news. He could be killed for this, if Cherry finds out. Still his legs carry him swiftly through the shadowed streets of the Narrows and into the lively, sparkling ones of the more upper-class areas of Gotham. 

Oswald’s revamped lounge, previously under the name _Mooney’s,_ finally appears in Ed’s line of sight, a neon purple umbrella flickering like a beacon in the window. Ed supposes in the ruins of No Man’s Land, Oswald knew people would be desperate for alcohol and so he saw this as a grand business opportunity. He pushes through the swinging door and finds a menu framed on the wall just inside, listing a variety of fine wines and liquors. Quite pricey. Oswald’s doing well.

And Oswald’s done a wonderful job on the place. It has the appearance of being lavish, with its purple velvet curtains, glittering light fixtures, and crystal glassware. Live music thrums through the club as the band performs onstage at the back. 

Several people toss Ed disgusted or confused glances as they squeeze by him, probably noticing that he looks like he’d crawled out of a sewer and then been hit by a truck. He forces his uneasiness down and takes steady steps forward. Ed has to take a moment to collect himself as his eyes eventually find Oswald. He’s seated at a booth, conversing with a few others, and Ed can tell that Oswald has them all wrapped around his little finger. They smile when he does, laugh when he does, nod enthusiastically at his every word.

He’s dressed in a stunning black suit with lapels that seem iridescent, shining with beautiful colors as the sweeping club lights catch on them. His hair is swept back and voluminous, streaked with deep purple that Ed has to strain his eyes to catch. Oswald listens intently to his companions and laughs, fake and exaggerated, and he tilts his head to the side, exposing the long, pale line of his neck. That gorgeous, kissable ivory neck.

Ed swallows. _Oh, he is so gone on him._

Oswald continues sipping his martini, black-lined eyes fluttering as he feigns amusement. Ed doesn’t even realize how close he’s gotten to Oswald’s table until their eyes connect.

Oswald does a double take and his face changes in an instant, smile slipping to the floor and worry clouding those lovely eyes. “Edward, what happened?” he asks urgently, as he rises and takes hold of Ed’s arm, tossing an apologetic glance back at the others before leading him to a more secluded corner.

Ed would smile at having Oswald’s frantic hands on him if his split lip didn’t sting so much. “Doesn’t matter.” (Although he likes having Oswald fuss over him). “Listen, Oswald, Cherry in the Narrows is planning an attack,” he says in a hushed tone.

Oswald huffs, annoyed, his hands falling from Ed’s sleeves as he crosses his arms.

“Someone let slip that you’ve been collecting valuables. They’re going to raid city hall.”

“Easy. I’ll kill them all,” Oswald scoffs.

“N- no, Oswald!” he interrupts firmly. His hands cling to Oswald urgently, fingers twisting in rich silk. “They _want_ you to be there, they plan to kill you!”

Oswald thinks for a brief second, his expression blank. “Then I will kill them all mercilessly and brutally!” he responds with a triumphant grin.

Ed wants to argue, to tell him not to be so reckless. He knows Oswald won’t listen.

“And,” Oswald begins, tapping a finger against Ed’s chest (it sends sparks to his heart), “As payback for what they’ve done to you, I will bring them back to life so I can torture them a second time!”

“Oswald…” Ed trails off with a breathy laugh. Oswald always liked doing special little things for him. Surprising him with coffee. Leaving gorgeous new ties or cufflinks for him. Slaughtering his enemies.

He gives Ed a smile that he’ll remember forever. Soft and warm, a look Ed will keep tucked into the corner of his mind. “Thank you, Edward,” he says sincerely, “I’ll make sure the situation is handled immediately.” 

He steps away with one last kind glance.

A few days later, Ed catches word that Cherry’s henchmen have been completely wiped out and her black market has been overtaken by new management. He smiles and strolls down the alleys, admiring the freshly painted images of Penguin that have been plastered all over the Narrows.

And when he arrives back at the library, an exquisite, gleaming green suit is hanging on the door awaiting him. He chuckles to himself. Oswald remembered his exact size.

\--------------------------

The Riddle Factory is back in business. With the threat of Cherry’s men gone and with Oswald’s henchmen taking over, Ed is free to march directly through the Narrows without getting a scratch on him. He smiles confidently, every eye watching him as he struts through the alleyways in his new glasses, expensive green suit, and shining black shoes. A silver question mark glints where it’s pinned to his silk tie. It’s another little gift from Oswald that sent his heart skyrocketing.

He throws open the backstage doors and steps into the shadows, the anticipation building as he hears the rumble of the audience and catches the brightness of the lights that glide across the stage from under the heavy curtain. Lila stands across the way from him, adjusting the gleaming green feathers on her glittering hat.

“Hey, Eddie,” she says with a smile. “We’re up.”

“Wonderful,” he breathes, and he can feel his heart pounding a mile a minute. He places his hat on his head, feeling a bit reluctant to cover his sleek new haircut, but knowing the Riddler isn’t the Riddler without his bowler. 

“Let’s give ‘em a night to remember.” 

Lila nods enthusiastically and raises the curtains, and light floods the backstage. It’s so blinding Ed can’t see faces, but he’s overwhelmed with the roar of his excited guests. Lila takes her place beside the spinning wheel of fortune and extends a hand to introduce Ed.

He saunters up to the hourglass, tipping it experimentally. “Does anyone have the time?” Ed asks slyly, a slow and easy grin spreading across his face. The audience goes wild, pumping their fists, stomping the concrete floors. Good, they remembered his act. “ _What time is it?!_ ” Ed shouts, whipping his hat off and gesturing to his audience. He holds a hand up to his ear as they scream:

“ _Riddle time!_ ” It shakes through the room, right to his core.

“That’s right, it’s _Rrrrrriddle time at the Riddle Factory!_ ” Ed holds out his arms in a grand, sweeping move, and then bows gracefully. “I’m your host, the Riddler himself,” he says sauvely, satisfied at the cheers he receives in response.

“Remember folks, the Riddle Factory is the only place in town where you can win _cold, hard cash!_ ”

Lila pulls a green sheet away to reveal tall, neat stacks of money, and the audience ooh’s and aah’s. 

“So, will my first _unlucky_ contestant step on up?”

Seeing his opponent makes him chuckle.

“Lars,” Ed drawls, long and drawn out as if he’s patronizing him, “Last time I saw you, you had a sack of rabid rats on your head.”

The crowd cackles and Ed grins wolfishly. He’s missed this. The attention, the blind worship.

“This time I’ll beat you, Riddler,” Lars retorts, and his tone borders between amusement and animosity. Ed remembers he’s a bit of a sore loser.

“Uh-huh,” Ed responds with a sarcastic edge. He tosses a mocking look out to his audience, and they explode with laughter. It makes his heart jump. “I’ll start you off with an easy one,” he says, winking as he steps away from the podium and towards the center of the stage.

The lights dim. The spotlight sweeps over the crowd and comes to shine on Ed, illuminating him like a green beacon. He tips his hat as a Cheshire grin plays on his lips. 

“What do a dead man, a cruise ship, and an emu have in common?”

Lila spins the hour glass with a flourish, sparkling green sand spilling quickly. Lars splutters. Ed makes a show of checking his non-existent wrist watch. The crowd holds their breath.

“Running out of time here, pal,” Ed comments, raising his eyebrows. “What do you think, Lila?” She feigns worry and then gives Ed a glittering smile.

“Uh- um,” Lars continues hopelessly. “A dead man, a cruise ship, and an- an _emu?_ How could they have _anything_ in common?!” The sand is almost gone. “Shit, I don’t know- _nothing?_ ” he finally answers, irritated, throwing his arms out as if he’s giving up.

Ed internally curses himself.

There’s a few moments where the hitching intake of breath spreads across the room as everyone awaits the verdict. After dragging it out painfully long, Ed forces a grin onto his face as he turns his thumbs to the ceiling. The crowd erupts with cheers.

“Ha!” Lars claps, satisfied at having the upper hand. “I told you I’d get one!”

Ed leans against the podium, adjusting his shirt cuffs, pretending to be bored and actually feeling a little bitter. “Well, let’s see if your luck holds out,” he replies with a smirk, tapping his knuckles on the wood. He sidles back up to center stage, the spotlight following his every step. He mulls over the various riddles hidden away in his mind, trying to find one that will stump Lars. The show is no fun if his contestant wins. He surveys the anticipating crowd as he thinks, eyes sweeping over them imperiously and his lips tugged into an arrogant smile.

And then his gaze meets a pair of pale, glittering eyes that watch him purposefully. He’s striking in an audience of Narrows people, a vision dressed in purple and brocade.

Everything slows and stops. The smile slips from Ed’s face and he barely breathes. Wide-eyed, captivated, as if under a spell. Oswald always had that effect on people.

“Os- I-” Stuttering and stumbling. The crowd awaits. Cigarette smoke swirls. The bright spotlight burns blinding white. “Wh-” Ed exhales, his voice hardly there until he finishes softly, dazedly: “What three words are said by many, but meant by few?” Oswald’s lips part, his eyes flutter just slightly. _He knows. Finally, he knows._

“I love you,” Ed breathes, before that bumbling idiot Lars can even spit out an answer. It’s like a heavy weight has been lifted from his chest, from his aching shoulders. A sigh of relief. The crowd falls into hushed chatter, all seemingly struck by Ed’s trance. And then it’s like he blinks and Oswald is gone.

“Oswald!” He dashes from the stage, the chatter rises. Lars shouts after him, annoyed. All he can think as he pushes through that dim, grungy room is that _he has to find Oswald._ He has to get to him, curl his fingers around his wrists, cry that he loves him, claim his lips once and for all. Ed calls and calls for him, only meeting face-to-face with multiple disgruntled and drunk strangers.

Finally he throws open the door and sprints into the damp alley, new shoes splashing in grimy puddles. It’s a cold, sparkling night, and Oswald is nowhere to be seen.  
Ed takes a shuddering breath. At least he knows.

\--------------------------

Oswald returns home with swirling thoughts, a heavy heart, and an aching leg. He needs a drink. Or several.

What the hell inspired him to take a trip down to the Narrows and sit through that ridiculous riddle show? _What got into him?_

He thinks briefly how amusing- how wonderful- it was to see Ed in his element, joyous and talented, despite the idiocy of it all. Oh, and how splendid Ed had looked in that gorgeous new suit, glistening and glittering as he’s supposed to. Oswald sighs heavily, forcing down that familiar swelling feeling that bubbles up in his chest.

Those words of Ed’s just keep ringing in his head. It was like a dream, like Oswald was in a daze, his traitorous heart pulling fiercely towards the stage. God, Ed had sounded so sincere. But it’s far too late for them, and Oswald gave up on holding out hope long ago.

After pouring a generous glass of red wine, Oswald strips out of his many layers of clothing, leaving them scattered on the tiles, and slips into the bathtub. Sighing, he leans back into the hot, bubbly water, and lets his eyes fall shut. For a moment he can pretend he’s in his beloved claw-footed tub at the manor, surrounded by comfortable things and sights. He can even imagine how Ed would push the door open a bit nervously, politely averting his gaze and offering a warm towel for him.

Oswald smiles softly, sadly. Blinks the tears out of his eyes.

Maybe on another earth.

\--------------------------

The sun is a faint white glow behind the clouds, peeking up from the gray horizon as it sets. It casts a soft light over the cemetery, over its headstones and straggly black-branched trees. Oswald hobbles up the hill, a bunch of lilies held close to his chest.

“Hello, Mother,” Oswald says with a little smile, as he comes to a stop before her. It’s cold enough that he can see his breath cloud the air. He leans down and places the bouquet beside the older lilies with curling petals that are already resting there.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while. I’m sure you understand why,” he adds with a chuckle, assuming she’s aware of how strongly Gotham’s been shaken by the explosions at the bridges. Oswald stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and glances uneasily around him. There’s always that little itching feeling that someone could be watching him anytime he’s here. But he supposes he shouldn’t be embarrassed for speaking aloud to his mother. Lots of grieving people do it.

“It’s a disaster out in the city,” he laughs nervously, “but I’m doing okay.”

She’s still and silent.

“I’ve reopened my old club!” he exclaims proudly. “Business is well. It’s nice there, I think you would like it.” He wonders if she actually would.

Oswald struggles to think of something more to say. “Ed’s come by a few times,” he says slowly, his voice wavering slightly. He laughs suddenly and sharply. “He wants me to marry him! Can you believe it?” His throat feels raw. He wants to scream.

Gertrud still doesn’t comment.

His gaze lowers to his shoes and he toes at the ground. “I, uh, I said no,” he adds quietly. “But I- I _want_ to. Marry him, I mean. I really really want to,” he chokes out as his throat is strained even more so. “I wish you were here, I need your advice.”

She doesn’t offer any advice but Oswald gives her a half-smile anyway.

Eventually Oswald’s smile falters, his mouth twisting. “I’m afraid this is the last time I can visit you,” he says sadly. “I have to leave Gotham. I can’t stay here anymore. Not after everything.” His voice nearly breaks and he roughly wipes away a stray tear. “But I promise, I will _always_ think of you.”

He inhales sharply, still holding back the tears that sting in his eyes. He sighs deeply.

“I love you, Mom,” he whispers. And he turns to leave, casting a last glance at the GERTRUD KAPELPUT engraved in the stone.

But his eyes catch on the old lilies once again. He pauses, brow furrowing.

These flowers are too fresh to be the same ones Oswald left weeks ago. And he hadn’t tied his with a green ribbon. His heart constricts. Ed is the only one who knows where Oswald’s mother is buried, and he’s certainly the only one who knows that she loves lilies and that Oswald used to visit every week to leave a bouquet. And who else would wrap them up with a green bow?

Without him even noticing it, tears begin streaming down Oswald’s cheeks. He holds a trembling hand up, pressing his fingers to his lips as sobs shake through his shoulders. 

“Oh, Ed,” he squeaks, thinking of him.

Even though he doesn’t have to, even though there’s nothing in the world making him do it, Ed left flowers for Oswald’s mother. Because after everything, Ed still knows how much it means to Oswald. Ed still cares about Oswald.

And god, Oswald _loves_ him. Loves him like he’ll never be able to love another man again. But he can’t let himself be hurt again, because when it hurts, it’s twisting, torturous, total.

And it _will_ hurt again. He’s sure of it.

\--------------------------

It’s becoming clearer and clearer to Ed that he really can’t let go of Oswald. Every waking hour is devoted to him, in some way. By day Ed roams the streets of Gotham, picking up torn bits of newspaper, surreptitiously listening in on conversations between GCPD patrol officers, searching for anything that Oswald could use to protect himself or build his business. If he thinks a piece of information might help Oswald, he passes it along as soon as possible. By night he holes up in the library, fiddling with an old radio instead of sleeping. When he tunes it right he can eavesdrop on gangs discussing their villainous schemes. A few times, he’s caught word of more planned attacks on Oswald or the secret location of supply stashes. He writes letters to Oswald, some to warn him, others to check in on him. Other times he calls him, but it’s always some bored assistant answering. He wishes he could go see him, but he knows Oswald wants to be left alone.

Countless weeks (although Ed _has_ been counting- for the record, it’s been six) and Oswald hasn’t responded. Radio silence is all Ed hears. Until one day.

Oswald seeks him out at the library, as if he knew he was there all along. Ed’s heart nearly stops upon seeing him flinging open the glass doors and strutting through.  
Neither of them speak of the encounter at the Riddle Factory. Ed’s desperate confession of love hangs heavy in the air but Oswald gets straight to his point.

“I’m leaving Gotham.”

All the air is sucked from Ed’s lungs. “ _What?_ Oswald, you’ve always said Gotham is your home, you can’t leave-”

“It seems this home is more of a prison.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Edward, I think it’s time we escaped.”

“We?” Ed breathes.

“You’re not safe here. If you come with me we can both start new lives on the mainland,” Oswald explains as he steps closer, hands skimming the dusty bookshelves. “I still care about you, Ed,” he adds softly.

And Ed’s heart seizes in his chest. Without waiting a second more, he surges forward to take Oswald’s lips just as Oswald turns his cheek. 

“Ed,” he whispers shakily, his voice almost strangled, “please don’t.”

Ed pulls away, cheeks warming and a lump forming in his throat. The air suffocates him. “Oswald, I’m-”

The beginnings of his stuttered apology die on his tongue as Oswald waves a silencing hand. The hand then returns to Oswald’s lips and he bites his nails as he thinks. “As I was saying,” he begins delicately, watching Ed with big, anxious eyes, “I’d like you to come with me. You’re free to live your life how you please once we reach the mainland.”

Ed’s windpipe is squeezing, burning. “We’re stronger together, Oswald. You know that.”

“Maybe we used to be,” Oswald replies sadly. _But not anymore._

Ed exhales heavily. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Oswald looks up, brows furrowed questioningly.

“Don’t keep denying us. We’re good for each other,” Ed continues, although he’s too tired and too weak to argue. Maybe this is something they’ll go back and forth on forever. Maybe Oswald will never let Ed stay with him. But Ed would rather follow Oswald and lose him on the mainland than be left behind in this sinking city, watching him disappear into the heavy fog on the horizon, never to be seen again.

The very thought of it makes his stomach drop. So he agrees. They begin making their escape plan, Ed’s heart sagging each time he remembers that they’re to part ways once they hit the other shore. But at least Oswald is with him until then.

The ring box is so much heavier in his pocket now.

\--------------------------

They begin work on the submarine and it’s starting to feel like old times, and painfully so. Ed must admit he’s dragged the process out much longer than necessary. He’s even pretended, on several occasions, that he’s made a few mistakes that need time to figure out and fix, just so he can be with Oswald a little longer. If Oswald sees right through Ed’s ruse, he says nothing.

Oswald visits the library nearly every day to check up on Ed’s progress or to force some food into him, often fretting over him in a way that makes it difficult for Ed to suspend his adoring smiles. For a while, Ed tries to get Oswald to stay overnight, insisting that he’s fine with sleeping on the couch and that he doesn’t mind Oswald taking his cot. He reasons that it might be easier this way, that it’ll save him the commute, and he doesn’t tell Oswald that he just wants to be with him longer. But at the end of every day, Oswald still leaves, returning alone to city hall, and Ed is left to toss and turn on his cot.

Ed must say, though, that Oswald is slowly becoming more friendly even more often, his face softening, his cheeks rounding and brightening with warmth. Things are getting better, Ed can feel it. He doesn’t know how it's even possible, but he’s managed to fall even deeper in love with Oswald. If it weren’t for his work distracting him, he might be making a fool of himself, tripping over his own feet and blushing wildly and forgetting to breathe every time Oswald arrives in the morning. He’s even caught a hidden smile or a hint of pink on Oswald’s cheeks now and again.

And once again, Ed finds his thoughts consistently traveling to the ring in his pocket.

\--------------------------

It’s been weeks since the encounter at the Riddle Factory, during which Ed had so sincerely declared his love for Oswald before hundreds of Narrows people, but Oswald remembers it like it was yesterday. He’s sure Ed hasn’t stopped thinking of that moment either, not with the way he casts longing gazes at Oswald when he thinks he’s not looking or the way he tends to step just a little too close.

Oswald doesn’t know if he should mention it. He’s approaching Ed before he can stop himself.

“Edward.”

“Yes?” 

Oswald opens his mouth but chokes on his words. He squeaks futilely, his heart racing.

Ed furrows his brow and turns fully towards him, abandoning his screwdriver on the workbench. He’s tucked a pencil behind his ear and when Oswald’s eyes catch on it his heart constricts rather painfully. “Oswald, what is it?” Ed asks, concerned.

Oswald’s breath stutters and his mind lands on an excuse. He forces a weak-hearted laugh. “I just forgot!” he huffs another awkward laugh, eyes searching the floor for a distraction. “In and out of my head, just like that!” _These are very nice tile floors, the black and white marble reminds him so much of home-_

“Oswald,” Ed interrupts sharply, and Oswald tears his eyes away from the fascinating tiles. “Don’t do that.”

Just like back at the mansion. The tall windows had cast a glowing white light across Ed’s features, highlighting the remarkable structure of his cheekbones, his nose, his brow. He was going to tell Ed then. “I don’t have any idea what you mean-”

“ _Oswald._ You didn’t forget.”

Oswald lets his shoulders sag and he sighs heavily, rolling his eyes in frustration at Ed’s persistence. “Fine, Ed! It’s just- we probably _should_ talk about it.”

Ed blinks. “Talk about what?”

Oswald splutters. “The- you know-” he gestures wildly, arms flapping in agitation.

“Do you mean when I- when I asked you to m-”

“What? No, no!” Oswald gasps, nearly crying as he realizes how utterly oblivious Ed is. Had he truly been the only one playing that moment over and over in his mind, memorizing exactly how Ed’s eyes had widened and his breath had stilled-

“What are you referring to, then?” Ed presses. He’s right in front of Oswald, barely a foot away, his deep eyes boring into him, trying to tempt an answer out of him.

“Well it’s _your_ act, you should know.”

“The Riddle Factory,” Ed concludes simply.

Oswald sucks in a breath, giving a gentle nod. He dares to meet Ed’s eyes again but instantly regrets it. God, he’s so close, Oswald can feel the heat radiating off of him, it would be so easy to just fall into him, let himself be wrapped up in those strong arms… 

Ed turns back to the workbench and braces himself against it as he looks over his blueprints. “What more is there to talk about? I said it, I meant it,” he mutters. Apparently his guard is up.

Oswald draws his lip in between his teeth, chewing on it relentlessly. Perhaps he shouldn’t pry. Afterall, maybe Ed regrets his confession, and would rather they both forget it ever happened. Perhaps Oswald should leave now, save them both the discomfort of such a conversation-

He startles when he feels Ed’s thumb soothingly stroking his lower lip. “Oswald, relax,” he says, and Oswald has no choice but to comply. Blushing terribly and scarcely breathing, he releases his sore lower lip from between his teeth.

“I meant what I said,” Ed repeats softly, his hand falling to his side as he turns back to his work once more. Oswald is left struggling for words, struggling for air.

\--------------------------

Things are quieter between them. They keep to themselves, Ed working silently while pretending he doesn’t notice Oswald staring at him from behind a book. It’s not horribly uncomfortable; there’s still a gentle fondness lingering between them, most noticeable when Oswald stands beside him to monitor his work, their shoulders brushing every now and then, or when Oswald leaves food or tea for him. Still, Ed worries that one day this lack of verbal communication will cause them to drift away from each other, little by little.

Until one day, when Oswald finally says more than two words to him. Ed’s busied himself working on the sonar, making excellent progress, when he feels Oswald’s gaze held on him. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, offering a quick smile, but it doesn’t appease him. Oswald remains rooted to the spot, as if in a daze. Ed looks at him again, longer this time, waiting for him to scream or throw something or do whatever it is that he usually does.

“Did you need something, Oswald?” he finally asks, trying and failing to keep his tone level. It’s extremely distracting- and pressuring- when the man you’re madly in love with just keeps watching you in absolute silence.

Warm candlelight flickers across Oswald’s face, and Ed swears he catches the hint of a smile on his face. “You left flowers for my mother,” he states simply.

Ed stares intently at his work, blush creeping up into his cheeks. “Force of habit,” he responds, his response cool and emotionless. Oswald only blinks. He could slap himself for such an idiotic answer.

“No it wasn’t,” Oswald counters.

Ed doesn’t bother arguing, Oswald can always see right through him anyway. Ed picks up the model submarine and studies it as though it’s extremely interesting.

“Well, thank you,” Oswald says after a moment. “It means a lot to me.”

“Of course, anything for y-” He stops himself with a bizarre choked sound. He can hear how Oswald’s breath hitches but he refuses to meet his stunned eyes. _Ed, you moron! Do you really want him to think you don’t care?_

The tense moment dies when Oswald finds his voice again. “And thank you for everything else you’ve done for me,” he says quietly, sounding a little bashful now. “The tips. And the warnings,” he adds, chuckling nervously, “you were a great help to me when I needed you the most.”

Of course Ed could never just forget about this man. He’d devote his entire life to him if he could, he’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he had to, and he has the sense that Oswald is finally understanding that. He finally looks up and finds that Oswald is stepping closer and closer. He holds his breath, eyes round as he watches him. He sets the model submarine on the bench, no longer keeping up his ruse.

“And even though I didn’t deserve it-”

“Oswald, don’t- you deserved all that and more-”

They both stutter to silence, eyes falling to the floor between them.

“It’s funny,” Oswald suddenly says with a breathy laugh.

“What is?” Ed coaxes gently.

“You asked me once if I believe in fate.”

Ed instantly sees his dim apartment. The shifting shadows and flickering neon green lights that painted Oswald’s pale face. Oswald wearing his flannel pajamas, sleeping in his bed under his favorite quilt. He had scoffed when Ed revealed his (or at least in his opinion) impressive murder count. Oswald had seemed so unmoved by his mentions of fate bringing them into each other’s lives but this was only the beginning. Of course Ed remembers. He gazes at Oswald, waiting for him to continue.

“I suppose I really can’t escape you, can I, Ed?” he says softly, his lips pulling into a sweet, sad smile.

He’s right; they’ll always find each other, time and time again, no matter what. Ed’s hand is already reaching for Oswald’s, their fingers lacing together ever so tentatively, with a heart-aching tenderness.

\--------------------------

Once again, Oswald is leaving him. Ed didn’t know he could feel so gutted as he watched Oswald stagger away from the submarine, away from him.

_I’m going to follow my heart._

It used to be that Oswald following his heart meant that he would follow Ed. It seems his whole world has shifted. Ed is not his heart anymore.

But Oswald will always be Ed’s.

Now Oswald is screaming and bleeding in his arms. It’s all been a blur, this battle, and he can hardly register what’s happened. Ed holds him tight as another blast shakes and rattles through the massive barricade. It’s like the world is falling down all around them and Ed is terrified.

Jim shouts orders to his army, yelling for them to retreat to the GCPD. They’ve been overpowered. Ed secures an arm around Oswald and drags him upright as the others rush past them, desperate to make it back to the GCPD basement while Eduardo Dorrance’s men infiltrate their hold. Oswald is losing energy fast as Ed carefully helps him down the stairs, so he utters shaky words of encouragement to keep him going. But Oswald collapses at the bottom of the steps, taking shallow, gasping breaths, his chest heaving with the effort. He presses a bloody cloth to his eye. Ed clutches Oswald’s cracked glasses tight in his fist as he crouches beside him. The other soldiers huddle together a few feet away, discussing their next actions.

It’s not long before they’re moving out again, leaving Ed and Oswald in the cold, damp room. But Oswald makes no effort to get up. He means to stay here. Maybe he means for Ed to leave him but that’s not going to happen.

He’s far too pale. Bright red blood is a shock against his whitened skin. Ed knows he’s in dire need of treatment.

“Upsy-daisy, Oswald,” Ed says as he rises on shaky legs and moves around to his other side, “we’re running out of time.” He forces down those nauseating thoughts that Oswald might not make it through this, that blood loss or infection will take him far too soon.

As Ed wraps his hands around him and eases him to his feet, Oswald trembles violently, crying softly in pain. “Just give me one minute,” he manages, trying to wave Ed off, although he sways a bit where he stands and Ed has to hold him steady. Every movement must be agonizing for him, so Ed gives him a moment, although his heart is racing and he’s anxious to get him closer to safety.

“I’m so sorry, Oswald,” Ed gasps, breath hitching as he’s overcome with a flood of emotion, “I saw the grenade and I froze, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” He chokes back tears. What more can he say to heal Oswald’s wounds? Ed wants so desperately to cup his cheek, to stroke the hurt away with his thumb, to press gentle but hurried kisses across his freckled face. Match searing pain with the tender touch of his lips.

But Oswald brushes his hand away as he reaches for him, shushing him insistently as he does. “It’s the least I could do,” he says firmly.

There’s a sinking feeling in Ed’s stomach. Oswald’s words don’t soothe him.

\--------------------------

They win the final battle. Those remaining cheer heartily and pump their fists triumphantly. Jim gives a rousing speech to the crowd. Ed turns to Oswald, heart sighing when he sees him grinning through the pain and bloody tears. He thinks briefly about grabbing him, about sharing a celebratory kiss like all those old war boys returning home to their awaiting wives after a victory. He sidles closer, nudging Oswald with his elbow and offering a warm, affectionate smile when Oswald looks up at him. But he doesn’t kiss him, because he knows Oswald doesn’t want him to.

Oswald insists they spend the night drinking and rejoicing. Blood seeps heavily out from under the crude bandages Ed had quickly wrapped around his head. Still, Ed bites his tongue and lets Oswald have his celebration. He deserves it.

When they return to the library together, they’re each a little tipsy but still functioning. Ed is certainly clear-headed enough that he manages to shout a dramatic speech into the mirror as Oswald looks on, eye glassy and wide, lips parted in awe.

He doesn’t remember exactly how they got to this point but Oswald is telling him, _We would be stronger together. No one could stop us._ Ed’s heart is in his throat and he can’t help that his mouth tugs just slightly into a smile.

“Perhaps,” Ed responds, as if what Oswald’s just said isn’t the very thing he’s been waiting months and months to hear. He adjusts his tie nonchalantly.

Oswald rises slowly from the armchair, drawing his knife from the strap on his leg. Ed’s heart beats quicker at the mention of a pact. Their own kind of union.

“Shall we shake on that?”

Ed thinks he might _actually_ collapse when Oswald declines his handshake in favor of a hug. _Please. We’re old friends._ Perhaps he’s more intoxicated than Ed thought. Perhaps they both are.

All he knows is that he’s sliding open his blade and that Oswald is stepping towards him, his own knife clutched in his gloved hand. Then finally, _finally _the distance is closed, Ed’s wrapping an arm around Oswald, Oswald’s hand is resting between his shoulder blades, Oswald’s body is so warm up against him that he nearly forgets the sharp knife held close. If he’s to die in Oswald’s arms with a blade in his back, then so be it.__

__Holding him like this, finally being this close, is pure bliss. And _god,_ when Oswald gasps shakily and tightens his arm around him, pulling him in more and pressing his nose into his neck, Ed swears he could melt. He responds in turn, squeezing Oswald a little more, even daring to bury his cheek into Oswald’s hair. All that tension, all that distrust and anger and bitterness seems to seep out of them. Clearly neither of them really need the blades still clutched in their hands._ _

__Oswald releases another sigh and goes lax against Ed, and Ed smiles a bit at that until he realizes that Oswald can hardly keep himself upright, that the pain has finally become so overwhelming that he’s losing consciousness. He hears the knife clatter to the floor as it slips from Oswald’s hand._ _

__“Oswald?! Oswald, hey,” he gasps, patting his cheek and trying to hold him so he won’t fall. Oswald’s eyes flutter in response and he’s able to gain back some of his footing. Ed helps him to the next room and lays him gently on his own cot. He’s shaking again so Ed gives him the only blanket he has, a thick, military-grade one made of rough wool._ _

__And then he calls Lee. He hates to do it._ _

__“Ed? What do you want?” She sounds distant, distracted._ _

__“Lee, I know you don’t owe me anything but-”_ _

__There’s rustling on the other line. “Just tell me what you want,” she repeats urgently. Ed can hear her murmuring to someone, something about bandages._ _

__“Oswald needs help- it’s his eye,” Ed says hurriedly, “I don’t know what to do, I can’t operate on him-”_ _

__“I can’t either,” she responds. “They need me here, we’ve got a lot of wounded and not a lot of doctors-”_ _

__“Lee, _please,_ ” Ed finds himself pleading, his voice trembling. “ _Please._ ”_ _

__She sighs and doesn’t speak for a moment. When she finally responds, Ed’s chest swells with relief. “Okay. I’ll send someone over-”_ _

__“Thank you, Lee, really-”_ _

__“Let’s be clear, Ed. I’m not doing this for you. Not after what you did,” she says firmly. Ed understands. She doesn’t elaborate on why exactly she _is_ doing this, but Ed supposes she’d say something along the lines of upholding the Hippocratic Oath._ _

__“Of course.” The line clicks and he flips the phone shut._ _

__And then he waits beside Oswald, threading his fingers through his hair to soothe him. Oswald hisses and whimpers in pain until the surgeon arrives and anesthetizes him.__

 _ _\--------------------------__

 _ _The surgery was simple enough that they didn’t have to move Oswald to a hospital, and it was easily performed right in the library. Oswald’s eye could not be saved, that much was obvious. The doctor replaced it with a glass one and pressed a black patch over the area. She warned Ed that Oswald would need corrective eyeglasses to wear as he recovered, which she could not provide (Ed made a mental note to steal or make a pair). Ed was also able to threaten her into providing extra painkillers she really couldn’t afford to give away. After all, Oswald gets anything and everything he needs._ _

__Oswald had only woken briefly after the surgery, but he was so woozy that he was entirely unaware of what was happening around him. Ed tried speaking to him but received no coherent response to his prompts. He’d whimpered for his mother. Then he’d almost instantly drifted off to sleep once again, and he remains that way as Ed takes a seat on the edge of his cot._ _

__As Ed gazes upon him, he thinks that he looks peaceful for once. There’s no crease in his brow, and instead there’s a softening of his features. His lashes flutter just slightly against his cheek as he sleeps, and his delicate lips are tugged at the corners, like he’s in a pleasant dream. Ed smiles gently and clasps his hand._ _

__He takes a moment to inspect the injury, although the pressure patch covers the worst of it. There’s a bit of scarring reaching from his cheekbone to his forehead, which Ed’s sure Oswald will cover up with a generous layer of foundation. Other than that, he’s made a wonderful recovery._ _

__But still Ed knows there’s a long journey ahead of Oswald. Learning to live with one working eye is a major adjustment, and Oswald will need Ed now more than ever. The dramatic change in his depth perception will most likely require him to practice basic tasks with Ed’s guidance. Walking down the stairs, stepping past people and objects without bumping into them, pouring a cup of tea. Ed knows it will be a frustrating process. Oswald will smash things and scream at him but Ed will stay by his side anyway._ _

__He doesn’t know how he’ll break this news to Oswald, how he’ll tell him they have little choice but to stay together. Oswald won’t be happy. Ed forces down his own relief at the idea, and he’s ashamed of himself._ _

__This is all Ed’s fault, after all._ _

__There’s a stab in his heart. Oswald would’ve given his life for Ed. He almost did. And all Ed did was sit there, shell-shocked as the blast went off._ _

__“I’m so sorry, Oswald,” he murmurs, thumb stroking his pale hand. “For everything.” Oswald can’t hear him. But one day, Ed hopes, he’ll know._ _

__“I owe you so much. I’d like to make it up to you,” he sucks in a breath, “if you’ll have me.”_ _

__He reaches into his pocket for his most prized possession and carefully opens the velvet box, pausing for a moment to gaze upon the gem. It doesn’t seem to glitter as brightly as it had the first time he presented it to Oswald. It’s been through too much, been too battered these past months. Much like their hearts._ _

__But Ed places it on the nightstand anyway, one last time, gently turning it so Oswald will see it when he wakes. He brushes the hair back from his forehead, tender and intimate, before quietly slipping from the room. Oswald needs to rest now.__

 _ _\--------------------------__

 _ _The boat rocks gently as it travels across the river. The sun is beginning to set, hanging among pink and orange painted clouds, casting shimmering colors out on the waters, highlighting the lines of the city’s buildings and the iron beams on the docks. Oswald gazes out upon the calm river, a cool breeze ruffling his hair and the sunlight warming his face. He tips his head back and just breathes in the salty air. He’s leaving his lifelong home but there’s an unmistakable peace about it._ _

__The horrible screeching of brakes tears Oswald out of his tranquility. He startles and sways, hands gripping the railing as he tries to keep himself upright. Out several yards across from the boat, a car has pulled in on the docks, dust swirling around the tires in its wake._ _

__Oswald waits. He finds himself tugging on his ring finger, his heart sinking for reasons he’s not quite sure of._ _

__The car door is thrown open, and Ed’s frantic face appears and he screams Oswald’s name. It sends a jolt through him, and he cries out too, leaning as far forward against the cold railing as possible._ _

__Now Ed’s dashing to the end of the dock as though they’ll reach each other again. The boat seems to be carried away quicker now, the salty waves becoming harsh and choppy._ _

__“ _Oswald!_ ” _ _

__The sound of his desperate voice sends a knife straight through Oswald’s heart, sucks all the air from his lungs. Oswald nearly collapses against the railing as sobs crumple his body. “Ed!” he wails through gasping breaths. Tears flood his vision but he can still see Ed’s wide, terrified eyes._ _

__And there’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing, and it crushes him._ _

__Ed’s chest heaves, his mouth hangs open in despair, his hands clutch at his hair. A heavy fog floats in steady and slow, curling around him. Oswald only cries. It’s not long before Ed fades away, and Oswald is left out on the frigid waters, heartbroken and alone._ _

__The world is cold and still and terribly silent._ _

__Oswald startles awake, a deep ache spreading in his throat. A tear trickles onto the pillow as the relief sets in. He’s still here, in Ed’s library, sleeping on his cot._ _

__He flutters his eyelashes, squinting as he tries to adjust to the lamplight. Somehow it seems even brighter with just the one eye, and it takes several moments to get used to it._ _

__He frowns and looks about, finding that he’s been left alone in this little room. He wants comfort more than anything right now. He wants Ed._ _

__A glint of light catches his eye and he turns to see what could be shining so distractingly on the nightstand. His heart seizes, his breath stills._ _

__He’s never actually gotten a good look at the little thing, and never really given himself the chance to. A simple silver band with a single diamond inset. It’s beautiful, really, and seems to shimmer with iridescent colors, vibrant purples and greens that make Oswald’s eye well up with tears._ _

__It’s the most stunning thing Oswald could imagine. He pushes himself upright and reaches for it, fingers brushing the fine velvet of the box and then delicately tracing along the cool metal. He’s shaking terribly. Tears blur his vision so much he can hardly even see._ _

__All this time. All this time they could have had together._ _

__All this time, Ed never stopped, never gave up on them._ _

___After all this time, he still kept it.___

 _ _\--------------------------__

 _ _Ed isn’t even sure what to do with himself. He balances his elbows on his bouncing knees, hands clasped just under his nose. It could be _hours_ before Oswald wakes and Ed is sure he’ll be a nervous wreck until then._ _

__He checks his watch almost obsessively. Then he casts glances at the nearby grandfather clock, as though it will somehow show a different result._ _

__There’s shuffling coming from the doorway and Ed launches himself up off the armchair. His hands tremble at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching._ _

__Oswald steps forward from the shadowy side room, his face washing with fire light. He can’t seem to meet Ed’s eyes at first. Almost like he’s _afraid.__ _

__“Oswald, how are you f-” the words slip from his tongue._ _

__The air is still. Time slows. Ed has been holding his breath for years._ _

__And Oswald’s left hand drifts upward as he delicately adjusts his collar. Ed’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s sure he gasps. The diamond sparkles beautifully on his finger._ _

__Oswald’s eye flits up and he simply stares at Ed._ _

__“Os-” Ed tries to begin, but he falls silent._ _

__They step towards each other, their gazes locking and never wavering. Surely Oswald can hear Ed’s heart hammering away in his ribcage as they close the distance._ _

__Oswald drops his eye for a moment, staring fixedly at the ring on his finger, then looks up at Ed again, as if to say, _I’m yours.__ _

__It’s a dream come true, and Ed has never wanted anything more. He wants his heart, his soul, his lips…_ _

__“Oswald, can I-”_ _

__He can’t finish- can’t even breathe- before Oswald is throwing his arms over Ed’s shoulders and surging upward and rather forcefully pressing his lips to Ed’s. Ed must be in shock, he knows he’s barely moved. Oswald pulls away just as quick, lips red and plump from desperation. No, no, Ed wants him closer. He can’t find the words, can’t make his tongue work. He swallows roughly. Oswald is searching Ed’s eyes, waiting for a response, his own expression hesitant and a bit worried._ _

__Ed’s always wondered if Oswald kissing him would render him nonfunctioning. Now he knows. He blinks several times, willing himself to come back to the present. Oswald’s hands begin to slide down his lapels. He’s biting his swollen lips, his eye is cast downward in disappointment._ _

__But Ed catches those precious hands just in time, making Oswald gasp and lift his widened eye. Ed leans in, pausing just a moment to wonder if this is even _real,_ before he ever so gently brushes his lips to Oswald’s and steals away his breath. God, how soft and wonderful his mouth is. How warm and irresistible he is, Ed can feel this overwhelming heat radiating from him. Oswald’s left hand cups his face, thumb stroking lightly. The cool touch of the ring against his cheek nearly makes him fall over. He parts for a breath, breaking the gentle suction slowly and carefully. As if he’s been in a daze, Oswald’s eye flutters open in response._ _

__It doesn’t take long before their mouths are colliding again and again with desperate passion, and they melt in each other’s arms. It’s a heavy sigh of relief for each of them, a weight lifted at last from their hearts. Ed can’t keep his lips off him now. He presses kisses anywhere he can, along his neck, his jaw, across the bridge of his nose._ _

__“I love you, Oswald. So, so much.”_ _

__Oswald chokes down a sob, hearing those words. “I never stopped loving you, Ed.” He trembles against him, shuddering as fresh tears slip from his eye._ _

__Ed hushes him. “I’ve got you now,” he whispers against his lips, brushing those tears away from his reddened cheeks._ _

__Oswald leans in closer for the comfort of it, his beating heart warming. “Don’t ever let me go again,” he pleads softly._ _

__Ed takes Oswald’s hand, letting his thumb drift over the diamond. “Never.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> yes I named this after a florence song aflsdk


End file.
